


and this is the why

by sitandadmire



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Artist Zayn, Body Dysphoria, But there's a happy ending I promise!!!, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Gender or Sex Swap, Girl Direction, Harry cries :(, In another life I expand this to 30k at least, Other, Past Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Past Zayn Malik/Liam Payne, Photographer Harry, There's no smut bc I tried and could not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-02 21:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8683780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sitandadmire/pseuds/sitandadmire
Summary: "It took her a moment to realize that she'd actually rather wear something of his. Harry tried not to dwell on the feeling, although it was happening more frequently. Her old clothes didn't feel... like her anymore, like home." Or: Harry moves in with Zayn. Everything changes.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gravitycentered](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gravitycentered/gifts).



> OMGGG it's done!!! 
> 
> to gravitycentered: so, i don't know if you'll actually see this fic or not?? but life happens, i get it. it's still for you :~) thank u for the original prompt (which was to write a gender identity exploration feat. a supportive partner), even though i'm sure it's a little different from what you imagined. i hope you like it.
> 
> other stuff: none of 1d/associated had anything to do with this story and everything's made up, including most locations. it was written for personal use, no monetary gain, and i don't claim rights over the brand(s) mentioned etc. any mistakes are 100% mine. if there's anything i should take another look at, please let me know.
> 
> lastly, thank you to the exchange mod(s) for being wonderful and patient. i never thought i'd write anything again, let alone a 1d fic. but i guess i really did. onward!

_"You are the who, love is the what,  
__and this is the why."_ _\- Jesse Ruben_

***

Showing up past midnight was probably not the best way to move in with someone, but that’s exactly what Harry did.

The chill from the late July air outside was a ghost at her cheeks. A few strands of brunette hair were loose too, and tickling at her face. Both of her bags were by her feet, set down some inches away to not scuff her favorite boots. It was all she could carry at once, aside from the clothes she was already wearing.

Harry took in the worn, cheap coffee paint of Zayn’s doorway by running her hand across it. She knocked then, a smile playing at her lips.

It was certainly a good time to be asleep. She’d stopped to write Zayn a warning text on her way out, but never sent it, opting instead to memorize the angelic sight of her flatmate asleep on the couch. Harry made sure to turn the television off, and leave a scribbled note on the kitchen table.

She knocked again, this time with confidence. Her heart began to beat faster, hopeful, hidden behind the taut strings inside her chest. It was early Friday and she had a strong feeling that Zayn was still awake. Probably on his computer or having another smoke with the windows open.

The lock turned in confirmation before the door creaked open just a few inches, cautiously, then all the way once he realized. He was wearing a white shirt that just barely covered his torso and pajamas trousers. It looked like there were fresh streaks of blond in his dark hair. Harry didn't let her eyes linger too long. She focused on the familiar face instead.

“Haz,” Zayn said with surprise, hand ruffling his already messy hair. He fell silent, eyes curious, looking from her to the belongings she dumped on the ground.

Her arms ached. She didn’t wait a second longer, throwing them around his neck. Zayn was warm like she always remembered. He laughed softly against her ear, with a raspy air like he'd been alone for too long. His open hand pressed against her back in reciprocation. Harry swore his fingers could've burned her skin through two layers.

“Babe, I thought we were doing this later.”

The last word got caught in his accent.

By later, though, he definitely meant at a more reasonable hour. They agreed at the start of the week that Harry would scour the flat she shared with her best friend, get everything ready, and Zayn would pick her up Friday night after work.

Moving in together, however, was something they discussed long before that, and many times.

“I couldn't wait anymore.”

She made a sheepish face when they broke apart as if to say "surprise!" Also, "sorry it's shit-o-clock". Zayn looked around dramatically, behind her, and down the deserted hallway.

“No Louis?” Crinkles appeared at the corners of his eyes.

Truth was, Louis had clung to her like a koala, with loads of fake crying. Then real crying and profanity, but Harry promised to keep in touch with her every day. And when Harry also mused that she might have extra luck bringing girls home, at least for a bit, her eyes lit up.

Harry laughed softly.

“She’ll be fine.”

Together they stepped inside, each carrying a bag. It was quiet in the rare way an urban hideaway could be, except for what sounded like a familiar playlist spilling through the speakers he had set up within the flat. The hum of the music was low and soothing. Intimate.

Zayn told her to put her stuff anywhere that was comfortable. She nodded.

There was a low table in front of the couch, and a flat screen, as well as an unfamiliar multicolored rug. Harry had no idea where it came from, but it was nice. The kitchen seemed rather empty, a few items on the counter or hiding in the sink, but from a brief glance, still contained the necessities.

On the far side of the room, opposite the front door and kitchen, was the sliding patio door. It led to an open air balcony.

The door to his bedroom was ajar, and from the square of faded tile where she stood, Harry could almost feel the hair raise on her arms. It was one thing to be pressed against the frame, with a hand grabbing for the skin beneath her blue jeans. But to feel so tired and excited at the same time, knowing she was coming to live there indefinitely, was another.

Before Harry could say anything else, Zayn met her in the middle of the living room and slid an arm around her waist. She didn’t resist when he pulled her close to his body.

“Missed you,” was all he said and it was enough.

Harry turned around before pressing a gentle kiss to his rough cheek and then, finally, his lips. She hummed when Zayn put his mouth on hers. They did nothing but this for a moment, breaths light and lips eager, and it was pure bliss.

Eventually, Harry broke away despite every nerve quietly screaming for her to stay right there, to leave her brown heeled boots by the door. She shed her leather jacket too (faux, of course), leaving it on the back of an empty chair, and wandered into Zayn's room with one of the bags. She dug around inside for a mix of things, thinking it was best to take off the travel clothes.

It took her a moment to realize that she'd actually rather wear something of his. Harry tried not to dwell on the feeling, although it was happening more frequently. Her old clothes didn't feel... like her anymore, like home.

Peeking into one or two of his closed drawers, Harry settled on an old The Stone Roses t-shirt, one that was a mix of yellow, white and black, and ripped at the bottom. She was stealing it from him for the night, and he, in turn, had stolen it from Louis who probably only wore it once. It was loose and a little cold, but better. More comfortable.

Harry matched it with a pair of grey shorts and fluffy socks.

Zayn ducked into the fridge while she was gone, in search of takeaway. She watched the old tattoos on his arms shine faintly under the light when he moved around the small kitchen. They waited near the island,  as a white container made circles inside the microwave. He promised it was something good from a new cafe around the corner.

After a couple of minutes, Harry raced him over to the couch. The red of the cushions was faded in certain spots, like smudged lipstick. It probably had some on it somewhere from all the nights she ended up there.

Zayn cried out in protest, declaring it wholly unfair. He was balancing two forks and a bottle of water on top of the hot food. But the lines of his face softened immediately. She tried not to giggle too hard when he did the goofy voice he always used with his little cousins, this time to announce the indulgent arrival.

Harry wiggled and settled in next to him. He held the stuff out of the way for a second, after he sat down, so she could drape her legs across his lap. Zayn kissed her nose and she smiled, thinking to herself that she just made one of the best decisions of her life.  

Hoping.

***

Harry never felt uncomfortable at Zayn’s place before, but technically now it was hers, and theirs. The concept was daunting to say the least. She spent a bit of time in the beginning asking where Zayn put things until he asked her not to stress over it.

Told her that he didn’t really care about having a mess. Life’s a mess, he said with a crooked smile.

It took them weeks, then a couple of months, to eventually fall into a routine that worked for two people who were often on the go. Not always, but that was alright.  It was definitely different from the dating life they'd experienced over what was almost the last two years.

They blasted music of every type, held hands under blankets during impromptu movie nights, and bumped shoulders in front of the porcelain bathroom sink, in epic battles to brush their teeth. Zayn made coffee in the mornings, very early, half slumped against the counter, and Harry did the tea at night. She imagined the steam coming to life and painting her cheeks bright pink, even though it didn't.

They had fights too of course; the little disagreements like where to go for dinner or how cold to keep the flat. And the bigger ones, on the tense, unfortunate days that ended in tears or silence.

But none of it lasted.

Work kept them busy. Harry was a paid intern at a fashion magazine and Zayn helped manage a music shop on the other side of Manchester. He had his art during the off hours and both had their families and friends.

The rare moment Harry looked forward to the most, however, was when a day was finally over and a gentle, quiet cloud fell upon them. The music was off. The television was off. All the lights were turned out one by one, except the lamp with an industrial neck like a metal goose, that sat on the shelf next to the bed.

The moon was always there too, radiating light, even when it couldn't be seen from the glass.

They both settled underneath the covers.

Zayn examined her face with an intensity that made her nervous. The sheet fell out of the way, as he lifted his free arm and brought his fingers to Harry’s hair to touch it ever so slightly. She didn't close her eyes, waiting, watching the ocean of his. He finally trailed down and stroked her cheek with his thumb. It tickled.

“What?” she said, shoulders curling up.

“Dunno.” He shifted his body. “Just kept thinking about you today.”

He looked at her.

“About me?” Harry echoed.

Zayn must've seen the playful look on her face, the slight eagerness in her green eyes, because he rolled his eyes and dropped his hand. It traveled below the covers and to the dip of her waist. He rubbed gently, then squeezed once.

“Yeah. All day.”

Harry took the bait, kissing him on the lips for several passing moments, before rolling onto her back. He moved over too, as she tugged at the front of his shirt, and slotted himself between her legs.

Zayn rested an elbow against the space just beside her head. She felt the fabric of his boxers now, teasing against her thighs. He leaned in until their chests were almost touching, his mouth hovering above hers. Harry absentmindedly touched his parted lips, curved into a smile, with her fingertips.

“Lucky I was thinking about you too.”

Zayn closed the space between them without another word, pressing his mouth into hers, this time with more energy and more confidence. Harry could feel herself barely humming with each hungry kiss.

He tasted like toothpaste, with a lingering hint of wine from earlier. She kept her knees apart, and bent, wanting Zayn to be as close to her body as possible. The irresistible feeling of a slow, heavy calm began to wash over her.

Sex was better than ever, now that they were also present for the passing, intimate moments of each other. Like getting into the shower that had enough space for two people. Or sometimes when Zayn woke up restless and biting at his bottom lip, Harry teased him by asking what he was dreaming about. The answers were always interesting.

“I’m just,” Zayn finally murmured, with little pauses, “like, happy you moved in.” He pulled away from her mouth then and started to deliver soft kisses down her neck.

She didn’t want to imagine a version of her life where she would have said no.

Harry whispered, “Me too, baby.”

The night rolled on, slowly and infinitely.

***

At the beginning of October, Harry found herself getting ready for a night out.

A childhood friend of hers from the same town was getting married in a week and a half. Somewhere inside an expensive hotel in the heart of the city that the fiance's parents, Harry found out, had business ties to.

Harry was a little apprehensive when she first got the wedding invitation, ignoring the "Ms." on the envelope out of habit by then. There was a stamp to indicate it being forwarded from her old address. It seemed like it was going to be a lovely event, if the amount of ribbon and glitter was any indication whatsoever.

Olivia texted her later that week too, out of the blue, to confirm she received it and give her additional details about the private party "just for the girls" beforehand. The more Harry thought about the latter, the more she wondered what she might wear or say, especially if someone asked how she was doing. Whether she felt up to being honest.

But after dealing with a photoshoot gone awry, and a deadline tighter than some of her mum's stockings, Harry decided that she was absolutely going. Have a few drinks, celebrate, maybe even dance. Terribly. Zayn wasn't supposed to go with her, which was an antiquated tradition in her opinion, but he didn't mind. It wasn't usually his thing anyway.

Harry stood in front of the full-length mirror they picked up at a clearing out sale. They kept it in the bedroom, and it proved so far to have many uses, despite the obvious wear of its faux gold frame. She tilted her head, trying to judge her reflection.

Her collection of dresses increased significantly since taking the job, and getting to know designers or people around the offices, to the point where some of the outfits had to be stored in a flat bin underneath the bed.

This one was a gift: a rich blue color, like a deep part of the ocean, and covered in sequins. Its front had a v-neck dip that showed off her body a little more than usual when she slipped into it. She couldn't wear a bra underneath, but today that felt okay. Felt right.

Instead there were a couple of small nude pasties that she could adjust discretely to make sure everything stayed put under the fabric. Harry took a step back, then turned to the right and to the left to see how she looked.

The length of it made her legs feel longer than they already were, she thought. Her lips were painted with a shade of purple that was almost black, and her hair was tied back into a low, slightly messy bun that was bound to be ruined amidst all the clamor. She inhaled and finally satisfied, nodded to herself in the mirror, before moving to pick up her heels and turn off the light.

Zayn wasn't home and the flat was empty. Her keys jingled.

Harry joined the others less than half an hour later, at a place called "The Rose". It was her first time heading inside, despite having seen the outside of the massive concrete building it was part of before. The neon sign hung above the door, with its title in pink cursive.

Colorful lights and music overwhelmed her senses as soon as they climbed down a set of stairs and stepped into the main space, the beat energetic and loud. It didn't seem to be a strip club though, thankfully, just a regular ol’ nightclub.

Each of the guests were given a flimsy plastic wristband as they entered what looked like a more secluded VIP area. She raised her eyebrows as she sat down, leaning back against the booth, feeling awkward as the other women hugged and yelled at each other over the noise.

But just as Harry lifted a drink off one of the trays that went by, Olivia noticed her and hurried over. She took a big gulp, just in case, before setting it down on the glass table.

"Harry! Hi!!" Olivia said excitedly. "You came!"

"Hey Liv," she said back, with a grin and a quick shrug, "Duh."

Olivia pulled Harry into a generous hug. Harry couldn't recall the last time she saw Olivia in person. They'd been out of secondary school for years, Olivia moved to London after that, and the rest was history (and social media). But she had always been a good friend when they were growing up and Harry missed her.

When they broke apart, they instinctively looked down at each other's outfits.

"Oh my God. You are gorgeous."

Harry tried to fight a blush at the sudden compliment and took in the sight of Olivia's pale pink dress, with jewels around it to emphasize her waist, and puffy tulle at the bottom. It was the perfect color to compliment her blond hair. She looked like a beautiful ballerina. Across her shoulder was a giant sash that simply said "Bride To Be".

"Please, look at you!" Pause. "I can't believe you're getting married."

"Me neither." Olivia squeezed Harry's hand, and the moment passed before Harry could say anything about the pensive look that swept over her face. Harry was then introduced one-by-one to some of Olivia's friends, and presumably bridesmaids, the names of whom she wasn't likely to remember after tonight.

They all seemed excited to be there.

After three or four drinks, and what felt like an eternity on the dance floor, which much to her delight involved a few 90s pop songs, Harry finally broke free from the crowd. She went back to the VIP area for a little break. There were a couple of people there that she didn't recognize, as they were probably with a different party.

Olivia and the others were still dancing, or doing who knows what. They were a lively bunch, and Harry felt like she was having more fun that she expected to earlier. She quickly checked her dress, but everything seemed fine, then dug into her shoulder purse for her phone. The screen was too bright for her eyes when Harry pressed the button to see the time.

10:02. And there were no notifications.

She entered her passcode and started a new text to Zayn.

_**"Where r u ?? x"** _

Harry felt around behind her with one arm, to make sure she sat down on the soft bench rather than the floor. It took a minute before anything came back. The phone buzzed alive.

_"Out for a bit. C you at home:)"_

Huh. Well, to be fair they hadn't spoken since that morning but still...

She rubbed her forehead with one hand, then tapped the screen and opened her Instagram app. It was something she had done before and maybe (probably) shouldn't repeat again right now. But curiosity was sitting on her shoulders like a demon she couldn't get rid of, encouraging her, as she typed in his username.

No new posts. She tried the tab to the side instead, the one which showed photos other people tagged him in.

And there it was.

Her heart split into two, one half beating in her ears along with the music, nervously, and the other sinking to the ocean like a rock thrown overboard. It was a shot of Zayn and someone she didn't recognize, but they were beautiful. Long red hair, a smile so bright she wondered if it wasn't the flash, and a daring black dress.

The longer she stared at it, eyebrows knit, the sooner she realized it was actually a selfie. Their arm was around Zayn's neck. He was smiling too. Bigger than she'd seen in awhile.

Harry went to the main profile and then, fighting it, she closed her eyes. She willed herself not to go through the entire damn thing. Instead, she blinked and went back to the picture by itself. That was all she was owed, if that.

If that. The words swirled around in her mind.

The username read ver0nica_28. Harry's eyes were starting to hurt, but she read the caption quickly. It said: "Reunited with the best!!! @zaynmalik #sohappy" with a red heart emoji.

She didn't answer Zayn's text, spending something like another ten minutes on the same bench, before Olivia happened to appear.

Harry clumsily kissed her cheek and told her thanks for inviting her. That she would see her again at the wedding. The alcohol was burning slowly in her veins from the fifth, and most dangerous, drink. Olivia seem confused, not even as drunk as she was, because Harry was leaving unusually early.

"I have to go."

Olivia hugged her briefly before she stumbled away.

The cold, fresh air flooded Harry’s lungs as soon as she stepped outside. Tears were already prickling at the corners of her eyes, but she repeatedly told herself to be reasonable. There was nothing to be worried about. Except the look on Zayn's face, like that person was incredibly important to him and Harry had no idea who they were. And in truth, that it wasn't her that made his eyes shine.

That things were changing, the world was still spinning, whether she was ready or not.

Instead of going back to the flat, Harry called Louis from the back of a taxi cab. She asked with a shaky voice whether she was home, and whether she could please spend the night. Louis said yes instantly and was, in fact, waiting on the familiar landing when Harry slowly climbed the stairs.

It was only when the door shut behind them and Louis pulled her into a tight, tight hug that Harry finally cried.

***

When Harry woke up, everything was bright.

She squeezed her eyes shut right away. It didn’t help that much. The light danced impatiently behind her eyelids. She stretched and rolled over like nothing was out of the ordinary, pressing her exhausted face into whoever was lying next to her. They felt a little small in stature and smelled like vanilla, or another spice perhaps.

When she put a welcoming arm around them too, she heard a rather high pitched squeal. Harry froze. Wait a minute, she didn’t recall getting into bed with anyone who wasn't Zayn. Not last night anyway.

Last night.

“Hello? Earth to Styles?”

Harry finally let her breath go and cautiously opened one eye. It was just Louis. Thank God. Louis was staring at her, eyebrows raised, hair a giant knotted mess on top of her head.

“Oh, you thought I was Zayn,” Louis cooed at first, then made a face a moment later as if she realized something. “Couples. Gross.”

Harry grunted and rolled onto her back. She draped her tired arm over her face. It already felt like too much talking and surprise for that early in the morning. Her head was heavy with the weight of things she didn't remember in detail yet.

“Lou,” she croaked. Her throat felt annoyingly dry. “What happened?”

There was a quiet shuffle next to her and she waited for an answer to explain what was going on, but there was no response. Okay. Finally, Harry managed to sit up and rest her arms against her legs in front of her. She opened her tired eyes again to see Louis standing in front of the bed, with a small glass of water and two tiny tablets in her hand.

“I was kidding by the way. Here, take these. For your head.”

“Thanks," she mumbled as she put them into her mouth, before taking a gulp of water. She tossed her head back gently.

Ow. Still hurt.

“Do you remember anything? At all?” Louis asked, voice changing its tone. The way the question sounded, it didn't appear she knew what happened, or that Harry was very talkative after showing up.

Harry set the glass down against the sheets, rolling it along its bottom and leaning it this way and that. She let her mind wander back to last night. Tried to jog any memories. She blinked. Some of it came back, in pieces.

"I... Olivia.. I mean," she started, then cleared her throat, "I went to this club. For her hen party."

Louis' shoulders sank.

"What?"

"Well, that explains why you threw up on me. Twice." She tried to be casual, but even as an actor it wasn't very convincing. Harry shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. Something was still stinging her insides, her nostrils and her throat especially, like fire.

"Shit. I'm sorry."

It apparently also explained why she wasn't wearing the blue dress, instead what looked like one of Louis’ tops.

Louis sat down on the bed next to her and started rubbing her back very gently. There was something a little bit sad in her eyes, but she gave her a small, encouraging smile.

"Hey," she whispered softly, "It happens. Are you okay?"

Harry dropped her hand from her face. She shrugged and looked down, knowing that the worst of her physical state had passed. It was only the unspoken question of why she didn't go home. Then a memory of the flashing lights hit her, the velvet bench, and her phone. Fuck. Her phone.

Harry’s head whipped up and she twisted her body to look around the room for it.

"I called Zayn last night. 'Cause you were sick, and I didn't know..." 

Harry wasn't mad at her, couldn't be. It was pretty much all on her shoulders for running away like she did. From herself. Being jealous of a stranger, too. A swirl of long ignored thoughts and emotions in her head just erupted. She needed to go back, there was no doubt about that, and talk to him. Their saving grace had always been their ability to still communicate. Despite the odds, despite the people who said their relationship would never last, despite everything.

"Um, but he probably called you and everything anyway."

Harry met Louis' concerned look. It wasn't often that she looked at Harry that particular way, like she was torn between her natural candor and something else.

They first crossed paths several years ago at music camp; in the summer, in a small town nearly halfway between Cheshire and Doncaster. Both their mums insisted they go. It turned out in their favor, despite the times they were unsure of each other in the beginning. Louis was the adventurous of the two, of course, and Harry was the more cautious.

It was around the time Harry started realizing that she fancied girls too. Thought of them differently than she used to.

Together, they won an amateur version of battle of the bands after six weeks. Louis was the lead singer and Harry played guitar. Half of the other campers wanted nothing to do with the terrifying dream team.

Covered in glitter, Harry kissed Louis behind her mum’s car on the last night. They promised each other to always meet in the middle.

One of the things she missed about living elsewhere was being able to have close conversations with her best friend like this. Although Louis seemed open to having her over almost anytime, which was a good thing to know. She just hadn't meant to test it quite so soon.

There was a lump in Harry's throat.

"Harry. Whatever it is, just-" Louis inhaled. "Just give yourself a chance to get through it."

"Through the dark," she answered, with a sly smile, before taking another sip of water. "Yeah."

Harry brushed her teeth and tried to comb her wavy hair, but it was still a mess. It would be nice, she thought as she turned away from the mirror, to finally get rid of it. She borrowed a pair of jeans and another old t-shirt, not unlike the Stone Roses one.

Finally she faced the eight missed calls, texts, and even a voicemail that were waiting.

Louis promised Harry later that day, after a lazy and light brunch, that she would get the dress dry-cleaned on her behalf, before shooing her out the door with love. She had theatre rehearsals with the rest of her cast to get to, she said in an operatic voice.

Harry had something of her own to take care of.

***

It was Saturday afternoon when Harry again found herself standing outside the coffee door. But it felt different than every other time before. There was music coming from inside, loud and dissonant. Harry bit her lip, her stomach doing a flip as she tried to decide what to do.

Without knocking, she gripped the worn knob and to her surprise the latch didn’t resist. The door creaked open with a slight push. It was a tad strange, considering Zayn never left it unlocked. She stepped inside and shut the door firmly behind her, not moving past the kitchen. He was in the living room. The lipstick couch was pushed to one corner and half covered with old plastic.

On the floor was a spread of protective canvas that, from use, looked more like its own kind of stained glass. He leaned over what Harry guessed to be a new painting, brush poised in his hand, momentarily frozen.

“Zayn,” she said aloud.

It was warm on her tongue, the familiar sound, but got lost in the noise.

Harry looked around to see his computer on the table, blasting some artist she didn’t recognize. The room felt better once she poked at the screen and turned the music down a few degrees. He didn’t look up or say anything when she huffed and walked around, digging in a couple of drawers, until she could find loose paper and a marker.

“Need to talk. Please?” She wrote the words in big letters. Next, she drew a sad face beside them for good measure. Then she went to the other end of the canvas, directly across from where he was still sitting and painting serenely like he was in a place of worship.

Harry sat down with her legs crossed. She held up the sign. Waited. Waved it a couple times when she thought he might lift his head. Watched as he made steady strokes of just born blue across the old layers of paint.

It tugged at her heart and she knew her expression softened. It was always an experience she could hardly describe, witnessing Zayn create something beautiful, and with such ease. Like he was seeing the very image in front of him and just changing its form to make it more visible to everyone else. Clouds and rolling hills, night skies, and people crying.

Finally, a slight smile appeared at his lips as he gazed over the progress so far.

“I was concentrating. Couldn’t lose it.”

Zayn looked up at her. She sighed a breath of relief, but didn’t move. He did though, setting down the brush and pressing the fingertips together that had fresh color on them. She got up when he did, following him to the kitchen. Not sure where to be, Harry resigned herself to slowly taking a seat at the empty table. He washed his hands in the sink.

“Want anything?”

“No, thank you,” Harry replied, pressing a flat hand against the piece of paper. She spent the last two hours burrowed in Louis’ couch, her old couch, scrolling through web pages and trying to figure out what to say. Zayn wasn't refusing to talk to her, so that was a decent start.

He sat down.

Harry waited, taking in the way a small crease of worry appeared between his brows, then disappeared. Zayn moved both arms out from under the table and rested his elbows against the edge.

He took a careful breath.

“It scared me, alright? That you weren't here.” He pressed his hands together in a gesture that almost looked like a prayer. “Like, proper scared.”

“I… I panicked.”

“About what?”

“Everything, I guess” seemed like the real answer. Harry shrugged slightly.

After a moment, she swallowed.

"Who's Veronica?"

Zayn pulled back a little. "Veronica? From back in Bradford. I hadn't seen her in ages." He sounded matter-of-fact, then paused. "How- how do you know about that?"

"I saw her post," Harry admitted. “On Instagram.”

He nodded. "Yeah. I - yeah. We hung out. Had a drink. She’s on tour with her band and they just had a gig, town over."

"Oh."

There was nothing but silence for several moments. Zayn cleared his throat. He looked like he wanted to say something more, but wasn't exactly sure where to start. He continued then:

"She’s cool. Basically the only other person I had.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “When I met Liam, and all."

Harry nervously rubbed the tip of her nose with the back of her hand. It was a surprise to hear him say that name.

"Your first boyfriend, Liam?"

He didn't talk about it very much, that particular period of his life; maybe a handful of times at most.

Harry always let it be, knowing what it was like to have hidden, painful stories that were impossible to tell. Even to people who might genuinely understand more than most. All she really knew was that it didn't end well and almost took Zayn down with it.

"Mm."

Zayn ran his thumb back and forth across the side of the wooden table, in thought.

"Is that why you didn't come home?"

Here. With him, with all their stuff, with her memories.

"No... maybe. I don't know."

He raised his eyebrows, curious.

"Does it matter now?" Harry asked.

Zayn reached for her hand and took it in both of his, cradling it.

"I'm not seeing her, I never have. Swear."

A round of guilt seeped into the corners of her heart, like the opposite of quicksand from some obscure fantasy novel, and it couldn't be stopped. Despite the thought crossing her mind, she never genuinely doubted him. Especially not after everything they'd been through. She hated that he had to say it, that they were essentially talking about what wasn't, instead of what was.

"Okay," Harry said quietly. "I know. I'd love to meet your friend."

She paused, took another deep breath.

"There's actually something I want to tell you."

His expression changed at the emphasis on the last word.

To her surprise, Zayn didn't hesitate and got out of his chair, lowering himself onto the floor next to her. He reached out towards her, unsure, then placed a gentle hand on the space above her knee. He looked up with those big brown eyes and even though she felt like she was on the verge of anxious tears once again, Harry couldn't help but laugh.

She shook her head.

"What?"

"I'm not pregnant. You can get up."

"Oh, thank - Jesus, Harry."

"Sorry."

Zayn sighed.

"Seriously. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, or puke on Lou. Or not come back sooner. I just needed... a little time to think."

She wanted to use parts of the speech she'd been writing in her head, about the complicated journey to being herself. About trusting herself to go after what she wanted, and about having Zayn there not for every single step, but every day. It wasn’t easy to get the words out in front of someone else.

Zayn wrinkled his nose.

"You did what?"

"Nevermind." She waved a hand.

Finally, Harry went on: “So, um, you remember how I’ve mentioned my chest? Before? A couple of times, I think.”

Zayn seemed a little lost about the direction their conversation was taking, but nodded, as if to let her know he was open to whatever she had to express.

“It doesn’t feel right sometimes,” Harry said for the first time, trying to keep her voice steady. “I mean - it does. Just not always.”

It didn’t cover all ground by any means, but for the time being, and to mend the distance of the night before, it was what she could manage. Zayn was silent. Harry watched his chest move as he breathed slowly. In and out. In and out. In and out.

"Seeing Olivia and her friends, being out, alone with all those people. It made me realize I'm not where...I could be. In my life."

He shifted. It was probably painful to be half-kneeling on the hard floor, but there he was.

"Where I could be,” Harry repeated, with affirmation.

“Like, you’re figuring yourself out? Finding what makes you happy?”

“I’m trying to. It’s hard to explain.” She inhaled softly. “I might need help.”

Zayn looked like he was trying to find the best words now that she had shared hers. Then it spilled out.

“Of course, yeah. Of course. Whatever you need.”

A warm feeling exploded in her chest like the journey of a thousand stars. She couldn’t wait any longer, getting out of her chair and helping him off the floor. They stood together in the space that connected the living room and the kitchen, that they created by putting a table where there wasn't really meant to be one.

“I love you,” Harry whispered, when he put his arms around her.

Zayn held her tightly. She hoped this to be the birth of a different kind of understanding between them. She nestled her cheek against his shoulder. There was probably paint mixed between their bodies. She didn’t care anymore. In fact, the idea was kind of beautiful. His voice sounded somewhat muffled, but the message to her was loud and clear.

“I love you too, Harry. Always.”

He brought his lips to her forehead.

“Zayn,” she eventually choked out. “I’m scared.”

“I’m here” was the reply. He repeated it a few times as Harry cried, until her heart was empty of the sadness and doubt she had been carrying around for years, and full of love and a new beginning.

When it passed Zayn kissed her again, just barely, where the last of her tears faded away. They moved to the other room, together, and he went over to the large windows to close the curtains. She crawled onto the bed, his side. Zayn whispered that he might head to the shops to buy dinner, but he'd be there when she woke up this time. He promised like he always did, pressing a hand to his heart.

Harry watched him go, the light taking his silhouette when he closed the door, and the room became dark. She stared up at the bare ceiling, feeling what she thought to be a moment more peaceful than ever before.

***

Two weeks later, after Olivia’s lavish and beautiful wedding, Harry cut her hair. To a length right above her shoulders. It was a massive difference from the long, flowing locks that everyone had known her by. At least for the last several years.

She couldn't stop looking at it in the mirror, playing with it during dinner, and when Zayn spooned her in bed. It felt lighter, softer, and was so much easier to manage in the shower.

There was only one problem, when winter approached. It was freezing. Her neck felt exposed, especially outside, so she took to wearing scarves to work. They hung on the back of her chair, at her desk, now that she'd been invited to stay. She was now one of a few assistants in the photography department. They also often worked in a darkroom, which she adored.

But she came home one evening, cheeks and hands still cold, to find a box sitting on the table with her name on it.

"To the love of my life," it read in a tiny scrawl, "Harry."

Inside was a purple hat. A cute beanie, simple, with a pom-pom on top. Harry laughed and setting down her shoulder bag, put it on right away. It stretched quite well, due to the material, and felt perfect and warm. A person could never have enough hats. Zayn emerged from around the corner, with a slightly devious twinkle in his eye.

He threw up his hands innocently.

"It's so cute!" she cried.

Zayn laughed, moving close enough to fiddle with the top.

"Only because you're wearing it," he murmured. She kissed his cheek and pulled him into a hug.

"I love it. Thank you."

It was all of the little things that Zayn did, that made Harry feel less alone, and less scared like she did months ago. He asked questions if he didn't know something, or it wasn't clear, and listened when she explained certain things that she liked - or didn't like. Harry, of course, tried to do the same for him.

She continued using the same personal pronouns, she/her, but decided to try they/them sometimes too. Felt more comfortable with specific words like partner, instead of girlfriend, or other terms of affection. Zayn didn't mind a bit - he called her babe and love all day long already. It always sounded so lovely with his voice.

They were both learning and felt closer than ever. The biggest difference was that now, it felt like there was a way forward.

***

Epilogue: One Year Later

The snow fell so heavily it created wide blankets of white, like someone had taken a can of fresh paint and slowly poured it everywhere with no intention of cleaning it up. Harry pressed her face against the car window. It was still falling. She felt a hand on her arm.

“Let’s go inside,” Zayn whispered. “Bet it’s nice.”

Someone had cleared a small pathway up to the house. Harry adjusted her coat, hugging herself with her arms, as they made their way towards the front door together. It’d been too long since she was home. In Cheshire.

She stared at the giant wreath because she’d never seen it before. It had twinkling lights and boughs of holly on it, and was hanging there, waiting, until it moved away from her when the door opened. Harry couldn’t help but break into a smile when she realized who was standing there.

“Mum!”

“Oh, my baby! Hi!” Anne squealed, throwing her hands up in pure excitement. She kissed both of Harry’s cheeks and any other year, Harry probably would’ve scrunched up her nose and pulled away.

But not this time.

“And Zayn, how are you?!” she asked, giving him a little hug and a brief moment to murmur a reply, before waving for both of them to come in.

The heat from inside the house was immediate. Harry sighed happily. She took in the overwhelming sight and sounds of the night before Christmas. Decorations appeared to be in and on every nook, cranny.

A distant voice from the kitchen called out to see who was at the door, the small fireplace was alight, and the smell of fresh cinnamon and roast was drifting over. A few kids, from her extended family, were on the floor by the tree, poking at some of the wrapped presents. They grew up so fast it was getting harder to remember exactly who was who.

She said hello to them.

It seemed like a busy, warm house, no doubt with those yet to arrive or outside messing around in the snow, and she loved it all even five minutes in. 

Once Zayn took off his coat and hung it next to the pile of others, then his shoes, he turned to Harry who was still standing in the same place.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Think so. A little nervous. Can we find Gemma first?”

Harry thought she might cry again when she saw her older sister, who realized right away that something was going on when she didn’t jump on her for the usual bear hug.

She took Gemma’s hand in hers and led her downstairs, the other hand gripping the fabric around her, until they got to the kitchen. The conversation quieted. Harry looked around to see the oven on, and her mum, stepdad, nan, and a couple of aunts crowded around the table. Good thing there was wine in the middle.

“Harry, what is going on?!” Gemma exclaimed.

Maybe this was going to be easy, maybe it wasn’t, but with Zayn right by her side, and her family waiting too, she felt like she could do anything. Harry took a deep breath, untied the bulky coat that was in fact making her sweat, and shrugged it off her shoulders.

Zayn took it from her, just like they rehearsed several times, draping it over one of his arms. A smile spread across Harry's face, as she lifted a hand to gently rest it on her growing bump.

“Room for one more?”

It was silent for maybe a whole second, then multiple voices burst out at once, overlapping with the sound of chairs being pushed back and scraping against the floor. It seemed like, quite hilariously, her stepdad was the one making the most noise. Harry couldn’t help but feel emotional now, as the news sunk in for the others. She wiped briefly at her eyes with a thumb.

Gemma shrieked happily and finally got her bear hug.

When Harry looked over her sister’s shoulder, she could see her mum with a hand to her mouth, obvious tears of shock welling in her eyes.

Anne got up a moment later and stood in front of her, taking both of her hands affectionately. She squeezed them and Harry could see the beginnings of a big, beautiful smile. They hugged too. There was no other place in the world to be.

“Congratulations,” Anne said, in Harry’s ear, with warmth and love. “I’m thrilled.”

“We are too,” Zayn added next to her, pride in his voice.

After a round of hugs and kisses from everyone, and a series of questions like when she was due, the kitchen cleared out. Except for Harry, and her nan, who shuffled to the oven to check on the cooking that was still in progress. Harry sat down in a chair, suddenly exhausted.

She exhaled and tugged on the soft fabric of her jumper.

Eventually there was two of them at the table again, and Harry took it as an opportunity to try and explain a little of what the experience of her gender identity was. Nan just listened and smiled, before patting her hand and whispering in her tired, aged voice: "Whatever makes you happy, dear."

One of her younger cousins came over afterwards. She looked at Harry's stomach curiously.

“Is the baby going to be a boy or a girl?”

Harry gave her a kind smile and leaned in.

“I’ll tell you a secret. Later, okay?” she whispered back.

The girl nodded and ran away. The truth was, Harry didn't know and she didn't want to, hoping with all her heart that their baby would someday learn how to be confident in their own skin, regardless of what society had to say about putting a person into a box.

Dinner was delicious, rich, and far too plentiful. Some of the family left, others stopped by for just a few minutes to drop off gifts or neighbors came through the door and seemed to want to stay forever.

Harry wandered back into the living room alone, after opting not to brave the cold for snow angels this time. She dug into her pocket for her phone.

The middle cushion looked the most inviting, so she sat down on the big couch.

 _ **“Sooooo how’d it go??”**_ she sent to Louis.

There was a reply right away.

_“Amazing !! Everyone loves her”_

Louis had made plans to bring her girlfriend, Elle, home to Doncaster for the holidays. Which, of course, meant meeting a huge part of Louis’ family. Harry knew she was nervous. Even though other relationships had come and go at that very same house, nothing so definite as this ever happened before.

She watched the little typing bubble re-appear.

_“WHAT ABOUT YOU!!”_

Her heart skipped a beat. The capital letters made her laugh though, because it was so Louis and an excellent representation of all the excitement going on.

Before Harry could type anything clever back, she heard a voice echo next to her.

“Room for one more?”

She looked up to see Zayn standing by the couch with a heavy blanket, probably one her mum had picked out from the closet and given to him in the hallway as a hint.

“I don't know. It feels pretty full, with me and kiddo here…”

Her lips twitched into a smile, obviously talking shit, and she motioned with a tilt of her head for him to join them right away. Zayn handed her the blanket.

Harry shifted over and let him sit down, before turning sideways and settling in against him, so that she was now facing the fireplace too. Her back rested on Zayn's chest and he tucked his arms under hers. She sighed, laying the blanket over them, then stretching her tired legs underneath the old fabric.

A hand hovered just by her elbow.

“It’s okay,” Harry reassured him. It was an ongoing topic of discussion, once they found out she was expecting. Given the changes her body was going through, people asking curious questions at the market, and ultimately, wanting to touch the curve of her bump. Often times, she politely said no.

But she didn’t have a problem with Zayn doing it. In fact, she loved that he remembered and tried to give her space sometimes, if he felt like she might need it on a particular day. Zayn pressed his nose into her hair and began rubbing slow, gentle patterns across her stomach with his hand. Harry could picture his warm smile.

They were both nervous about waiting until now to tell everyone, except Louis, who was there when Harry went through a whole pile of pregnancy tests, and there when they went to see new life for the first time on a screen. Brought a few photos home to cherish forever.

But they felt like it was the right decision in the end, to make sure during the first four months or so that both Harry and the baby were healthy, safe. Growing together.

Zayn's family was next. Their closest friends and co-workers would soon follow. At least, for those who hadn't already guessed.

Harry picked up her phone again.

 _ **“Yayy so happy for you, Lou!”**_ she wrote, along with several smiling face emojis and a present emoji.

“Who’s that? Tomlinson?” Zayn asked over her shoulder, since he couldn’t see the conversation.

“Yep. Family just met Elle. Everything's great.”

“Sick… tell her I say hi too.”

Harry nodded.

_**“Btw Zayn says hi. Facetime tmrrw? Want to tell you everything. X”** _

_“Yessss xxx miss you both”_

_“**and baby :)”_

Harry locked her phone and carefully positioned it between her leg and the couch. It was probably going to disappear into the cushions anyway. She leaned back against Zayn, who was now singing quietly in her ear. She didn’t know if it was a real song or something he composed just for her. But with warmth all around and the hope that everything was going to be okay, Harry closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!!!♡♡ i'm so guilty of being a multi-shipper and had to throw certain things in there tbh. just for fun, here's the [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C4NgsbkyeJs) the title is from. and [this](http://us.asos.com/asos/asos-sequin-deep-plunge-mini-dress/prd/7002476?iid=7002476) is the dress i imagined harry wearing at the party.
> 
> edit: RIP Johannah Deakin. December 2016.


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